Hula Girl

by Ward Cosio, Lara

  I was wrong. You have let me know you. And you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. I love everything about you. I love the way you’ve shared your life with me. I love the way you put me in check. Seriously, everything. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry.

  I feel myself go warm with his words, with his presence, even if it’s only by text. I don’t play any games by waiting to write him back.

  I’m sorry, too. I hate to leave things like this.

  I want to add more. I want to tell him to think about moving to Los Angeles. To sort out a way where I don’t have to be the one to give up everything. But I don’t. Because I know that being back in LA wouldn’t make him happy. Not even if it was for us to be together. The Maui aloha spirit is his happiness.

  Bfast? 9 am?

  I laugh at his abbreviated invitation to breakfast. His phone is practically useless. I text him back quickly, suggesting a place in Santa Monica, over on his side of town. Maybe we can have a real talk then.

  34

  Ford

  I’ve been up for hours by the time I get to Ava’s chosen spot for breakfast, The Penthouse restaurant in the Huntley Hotel. True to its namesake, the restaurant is on the top floor and offers sweeping views of the Pacific Ocean and the city of Santa Monica.

  That’s the ocean I was in not long ago as I tried to find some waves. It felt good to be back in the water, though it didn’t offer the same warmth and clarity as back home.

  Being here in Los Angeles again has been a reminder of all that I don’t need. I don’t need the hustle and bustle. I don’t need the traffic. I don’t need the palpable anxiety of how most people live as they strive to make themselves look better, get richer, or accumulate more things.

  A year in Maui was enough to reset the easy-come, easy-go mind frame I had once known so well. Everything moves at a slower pace there, which can sometimes be frustrating, but that lifestyle forces you to focus on what’s really important. In my mind, what’s important is the quality of life you get when you drop all the ambition and truly live the aloha spirit. Los Angeles could do with some of that.

  Looking around the restaurant, with its white leather club chairs and mini crystal chandeliers, I see a mixture of well-dressed tourists and locals, and I once more feel out of place. I’ve spent a lot of years struggling to fit in, first in Maui as a non-native white boy before Pika and Hiro befriended me, and then in my father’s world as a wild child who spoke before thinking. The thing is, Maui is the only place where I’ve ever really felt at home. It’s the place that makes the most sense for who I am and what I need. It’s why I blurted out that night at Ava’s Mom’s that she should move there. Because I don’t want this thing with her to end. But the only way I can see it continuing is if she’s able to come to me. To take that chance, like her mother said.

  As if in tune with my thoughts, I see Ava making her way through the restaurant toward me. She’s wearing a short olive-green dress and brown sandals with her hair up in a high ponytail. I stand to greet her. She offers me her cheek.

  “Hi,” she says as she pulls away.

  I don’t let her go, pulling her back to me with my arm around her waist. “Missed you, Hula Girl,” I tell her.

  She smiles and touches my cheek and then my still damp-from-the-shower hair. “Me too.”

  “Me too, what?”

  “Hmm?”

  She’s playing dumb. She knows I want her to say the words. I want her to open herself up and tell me she missed me too. But I’m just glad she’s here. I won’t push her.

  Releasing her, I pull her chair out for her and she sits. When I’ve joined her, our waitress arrives with the coffee and a basket of freshly baked banana poppy seed muffins I had ordered after I had been seated.

  Once we’re alone, I tip just the right amount of milk into her mug and she smiles her thanks.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” she says, taking in the view.

  It’s sunny but a little hazy. Not bad, but it doesn’t compare to the views I have back home. “I was in that ocean this morning,” I tell her.

  “Surfing?”

  I nod. “Pretty good waves.”

  “But not the same?” she guesses.

  “Of course not. Nothing can match Maui.”

  “Yes, you are certainly Maui’s biggest advocate.”

  I squint at her, trying to understand whether she’s teasing me or rebuking me. In the end, our waitress returns before I can decide how to respond.

  She tells us about the seafood eggs Benedict special, suggests a mimosa, then slips away after we order.

  “So,” Ava says, “it seems all went well last night.”

  I give her a you can’t be serious look, and she laughs.

  “I meant as far as the whole fiancée thing goes,” she continues. “If your father is offering up his girlfriend to help with wedding planning, then he’s convinced it’s all real, right?”

  “Oh. Yeah, that part was … good.”

  “And I assume you were able to smooth things over with him after I left?”

  “Yeah, it’s all good now.” What I don’t tell her is that my main concern in staying behind to talk to him wasn’t so that I could assure my own petty retribution, but so that I might deny him his. He was peppering me with far too many questions about her saying she and I would be partnering up and potentially taking his clients. I had to make sure he knew she was just joking. That it was just her sense of humor to throw him off balance since she was nervous in his esteemed presence. Yeah, I played to his ego and it worked. Thankfully, he finally let it go.

  “When do you go home?” she asks.

  “The board meets tomorrow. I’m resigning on Tuesday. I have a flight booked for eleven that morning.”

  “And you’ve sorted out the issue with your shares?”

  She’s all business now, her walls back up. It’s a shame to see her revert to those instincts. As if she needs to protect herself from me. I sigh, suddenly weary. There’s only so many times I can convince her she doesn’t need to pull away from me.

  Left with no other choice, I snap into the same impersonal mode she’s put on. “I have. I’ll submit the paperwork along with my resignation. I found a creative solution. You pointed me in a very helpful direction, so thank you for that.”

  “Great.”

  Her short reply and unfocused eyes tell me she’s not listening.

  It feels like our time is slipping by. I can see it draining away along with the easy intimacy we once shared. I have to do something to make her understand that this—us—is worth fighting for.

  Leaning across the small table, I tell her, “Let’s cut the bullshit and really talk. We need to figure out how to make us work.”

  She looks wary. “What do you suggest? I mean, honestly, we both know it would be me moving to Maui just like you said at my mom’s, wouldn’t it?”

  “It’s an option.” When I see her exasperation, I continue, “At least say it’s an option. I’m not saying it’s the only way, but it has to be an option.”

  “Ford, you’re asking me to compromise. You’re saying you want me, but only if I change my life and give up on my career.”

  “No. I’m asking you to take a chance on us,” I counter.

  She lets out a pitiful laugh. “How do I get to have you and my career?”

  I’m silent because I haven’t figured that out. I don’t have all the answers. But at least I can admit that. And I can admit how much I want her.

  But my silence only intensifies her frustration. So much so that tears form in her eyes. And then, to my surprise, she slams her fist against the table.

  “Damn it,” she says weakly. “You are my fairy-tale romance.”

  “Then—”

  “And you’re also proof that I can’t have it all.”

  “You can. We both can. We can figure it out,” I say but she just shakes her head.

  I’m hyper aware of the other diners sitting too closely. I don’t want to
be here in this restaurant where we have to force ourselves to have a meal together. I don’t want the fire we had together to burn out in this way. I want to stoke it, to bring it back to life and feel the heat of us once more.

  Abruptly, I stand and take the money clip from my pocket. I throw down three twenties, my best guess for the cost of the meal we had ordered plus a tip.

  Then, I hold out my hand to Ava.

  “Let’s get out of here.” When she hesitates, I add, “Please.”

  “And go where?”

  There’s futility in her voice, as if it’s already clear to her that there’s no point to us anymore.

  “Anywhere,” I say. “Down to the beach. We can explore the pier, go for a ride on that big old Ferris wheel, I’ll win you a giant stuffed animal at one of those rigged games—whatever you want. But let’s just go.” I just want some of our spontaneity back. I want that promise that when we’re together, anything’s possible. That there could be a point to us spending time together.

  As soon as she tentatively takes my hand, I pull her up and with me through the restaurant. I don’t take her to the main hotel elevators, but to the single glass elevator attached to the front of the building that offers ocean views during the descent. We catch it just as an older man and a much younger woman step off.

  Once the doors close, I slide my hand into the hair at the nape of her neck. But I don’t kiss her. Instead, I press my forehead to hers, willing her to take a chance. For a moment, we stay just like this, both of us with our eyes closed, breathing each other in with perfect synchronicity. And then I kiss her. It’s a searing, searching, desperate kiss that she returns with the same passion.

  “Just give me one more day,” I whisper into her ear before meeting her eyes. “Give me you today.”

  Her eyes fill with tears, and she shakes her head. “I don’t know what you want.”

  “I just want to be with my Hula Girl one more time. I want you. I want us. The way we were in Maui. And have been here until it changed last night.”

  The elevator is slowing to a stop and I’m desperate for her to understand. To answer me. To say that she will do as I ask.

  “Ford—”

  I can tell by her tone that she’s going to argue against it. She’s going to say that the real world has made all that impossible. That there’s no point since neither of us is willing to change our lives, including where we live. So, I speak before she can finish because I don’t want to hear her say it aloud.

  “Don’t give up on us, honey,” I tell her.

  “I … can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

  My chest tightens with this rejection. She’s just made it clear there’s nothing else I can do. She’s not willing or able to take a chance on us.

  The elevator doors open and the people waiting to board force us to step out into the lobby. I follow her out onto the street. The hazy sunlight is too bright for my dark thoughts and I laugh.

  She looks at me quizzically.

  “I don’t know,” I say in defeat. “I just—fuck it. I love you, Ava. Yeah, it’s crazy. Yeah, it’s impossible. But it’s fucking true. I love you. And I’m just so … sad that this is where it’s ending.”

  Her face is full of the same regret I feel. Reaching up, she touches my cheek. “I knew you were a romantic,” she says, and I laugh weakly. And then she adds, “I love you, too, Surfer Boy.”

  The nickname makes me smile, but now, it’s so fucking bittersweet. I’ve never felt more conflicted in my life. Not even when I had to move away from Maui at my father’s insistence. Because now, the choice is completely mine. No one is forcing me to give up the thing I want most this time.

  No one but me.

  35

  Ford

  Tequila is my friend!

  That’s what I declared at some point to the bar full of strangers at the cheesy “cantina” not far from my townhouse. I’d gone straight there after Ava left me standing on the sidewalk. As I sat by myself, I looked around at the garish decorations that were a ridiculous approximation of Mexican culture and wanted to laugh. Ava would have rolled her eyes at it.

  And she really wouldn’t have enjoyed the less than top shelf tequila they had on hand. Even as I drank, I knew I’d regret it in the morning. There would be no getting up early to hit the waves, no coconut water hangover cure could erase the damage I was intent on doing.

  I remember calling the bartender Makai a few times, as if I was back home. This guy looked nothing like my friend Makai, though, he did have the same epic level of patience. He listened to me as I confessed that I was heartbroken because my fiancée (yes, I called her that—it was easier than explaining the whole backstory) claimed she loved me, but she obviously loved her work more, because she wasn’t willing to move to Maui to be with me. My fake Makai checked on me throughout the afternoon, but eventually, he eased me out to the street and watched as I got in an Uber.

  Now I’m in my bed, staring up at the ceiling as it spins, thinking that I must not be as smart as I’ve always thought, because I still can’t figure out how to make things work with Ava. I want her. Jesus, I want her so much. But, giving up my life in Maui is simply inconceivable. I think of being out on the waves there, feeling the magic of that surreal flow and force of nature. At first, I ride the motion in my mind. But then, I feel the vomit rising and I scramble to the bathroom to get sick.

  A real class act, I think, after I’ve given all I’ve got and am sitting on the cold floor.

  Look at what Ava’s missing out on.

  No wonder she loves me. I laugh at that.

  She loves me.

  I love her.

  What the hell are we doing?

  I don’t get any further in this grand debate with myself as I soon pass out, cuddling with the towel I’d used to clean the sick from my mouth.

  * * *

  In the morning, everything hurts.

  Everything.

  But I have no choice but to dress in a suit and head into the office. There are tedious board meetings to sit through for most of the day, which I do without complaint. I’m only biding my time, anyway, until I can resign.

  All goes smoothly. I make no objections to the issues raised. I vote with whatever my father wants, which happens to align with what my grandfather advocates for, too. Today is the first day I’ve seen him in over a year, and he barely acknowledged me. I’m guessing it’s because my dad told him my decision to leave the firm was final. It’s of no concern to me anymore. Going through the motions is all I can muster, anyway. All I can think about is Ava.

  I’m so lost in thoughts of her, that when the day of meetings is finally over, I’m still in my seat at the board table after everyone has left.

  “Well, that wasn’t exactly the performance I’d hoped for to boost the board’s confidence, but it’ll do.”

  I’m slow to look up in response to my father’s words. He’s loosening his tie. It was a good day for him, and now he’s ready to unwind. Well, as much as he ever does.

  “I did what I had to do,” I reply, standing.

  “So, you did. And what now? I suppose you have plans with your fiancée?”

  I hesitate, wondering what lie to tell him. In the end, I say the thing that I think is closest to the truth.

  “No, we don’t. She’s caught up at work.”

  “Ah, right. I suppose Randall’s issues mean everyone over there has to step up and put in even longer hours.”

  I have no idea what that means. But I do know how to ask probing questions. I’m a lawyer, after all. “Right, there’s a bit of a panic over it. How would you handle something like that?”

  Senior raises his eyebrows. “Well, I should hope I’ll never have to deal with that. I mean, it’s a delicate thing, dementia in the managing partner.”

  Dementia? Holy shit. Is that what Ava meant when she said she was going to have to dedicate herself even more to her job? And why didn’t she tell me about Randall? She must be devastated.

/>   “There are a lot of public relations issues to take care of with that,” Senior continues, “let alone the internal factions lining up to go at it once he’s stepped down.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out as a whistle. “Something like that is another reason why it’s all the better that I’ll have your shares tomorrow to bolster my position here.”

  I don’t reply to that. Even without my shares, he’ll still be the managing partner. That wasn’t enough for him, though. He wanted the controlling interest of the firm, simply for his ego’s sake. Being king of the castle was worth pushing his only family out of the way. As much as I once strove to be like him and bought into all the power plays, I’ll never understand his desire to consolidate all the control at the expense of those he’s supposed to love.

  “Anyway,” he says, “we meet with Legal at eight tomorrow morning. Then you’ll be free to … what will you do?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I assumed you were going back to Maui. But with this fiancée of yours in the picture, what’s the plan? I hear she’s fiercely dedicated to Randall’s firm.”

  “We’re working it out. Probably do some sort of splitting of our time between L.A. and Maui.”

  He nods, but it’s clear he’s not convinced. It doesn’t matter, though, because he’s lost interest.

  “Tomorrow. Eight o’clock,” he reminds me before taking his leave.

  As soon as he’s gone, I pull my phone out from my pocket and start the laborious process of texting Ava.

  Not trying to interfere, but I heard about Randall. I’m so sorry. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. I mean it. I just want to help if I can.

  By the time I hit send, my thumbs are practically numb. And Ava responds so quickly that I have to laugh. Maybe a smart phone isn’t such a bad idea.

  I really appreciate that. The best help would be to try to kill the gossip going on about this very personal issue. Otherwise, I’ve got things handled. Thank you.